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Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Please Don't Make Me Go to Back to School Night

An open letter to my wife...

I can make a bong out of everything in this picture.

Dear Michelle,Please don't make me go to Back to School Night. While I am deeply concerned about our children's education, I also recognize that participation in this event requires a certain level of maturity and solemnity which, as you know, I lack. I am, just to be perfectly clear, emotionally retarded. Just the fact that I would use the word retarded should at least be some kind of indication that I have no business discussing my children's education (let alone participate in any way). But just in case you forgot, let me give you a run-down of what happened last year (some of which may be new information to you):

1. I giggled uncontrollably whenever the vice-principal's name was mentioned. It practically has the word 'butt' in it, for Pete's Sake. This is not someone who should be working around children (or childish adults).

2. I openly suggested pushing our children down the stairs just so they could get into the special education class taught by that hot teacher. You probably blocked this out, but here's your reminder. And I was only half joking (It doesn't have to be the stairs, it could just be a ladder).

3. I brought gum with me just so I could stick it under a desk once we got into our daughter's classroom. Why? Because fuck the man, that's why!

Someday, archaelogists will discover this piece and know I was here.

4. When you weren't looking I drew a peace sign on a desk. I don't even know why.

5. I moved our daughter's self-portrait so it was more prominently displayed.

6. When I was in the boy's bathroom, I pretended I was a giant among the tiny toilets and proceeded to put out several pretend fires. The bathroom was unusable after. I know exactly why I did this.

Whooooo!

7. When the principal announced that there would be new testing this year, instead of being proud to be in a progressive school which embraces more rigorous standards, I groaned and thought about the additional work that would mean for me.

8. Do you remember that other parent you saw me talking to? He and I actually went to elementary school together. I asked him if he was 'cool' and if he wanted to go outside and burn one. Apparently, we were not on the same page.

9. I told the art teacher if he was planning on teaching drawing the human form, I would be more than happy to model, but I'd need at least a week's notice so I could manscape properly. I didn't want to frighten the kids, you see.

Yeah, it's that bad.

10. And finaly, being back in school made me feel even more like a ten-year old boy than usual. That's why I fought bedtime that night, snuck into our son's room to play with his Legos, and may or may not have wet the bed.

I'll leave the decision up to you, just as I do with everything else. But you should know that I'm all hopped up on Mountain Dew and I'm feeling feisty. Anything that happens tonight is all on you. Also, doesn't that hot teacher still work there?